Inlustris
by dmackay1981
Summary: Thoughts of a dying ghost


_Inlustris_

Don't die.

Not here. Not like this.

Where I can't bring you back.

The sun is falling. Wind pushes smoke through twilight, beautiful dark shapes form and dance and vanish. The crackle of fire. Broken trees and bodies of Fallen, the terrible scar in the ground where the ketch had come down burning and ploughed through us.

And you.

Silent and still below me.

This frozen scene, a single frame.

The art of war.

I see it all, process the data. That's all it really is, without a life to feel. Information. The ceaseless torrent of input, sparkling for those who can read it.

 _... . . .signalfail..._

I wonder if your eyes are still open. Can't tell through the helmet. Doesn't matter of course. Their reinforcements are closing in, approaching the tree line to the north. Cautious now. They hadn't expected such a fierce counterattack, not from a lone guardian. They won't be caught out again.

You need to get up.

 _... .functionality19%. . . ..._

I remember.

I remember when I first found you. The ice morning sky, wind, movement of the grass were like the start of a song, something I had never felt before. That moment. The edge of something. An unbalanced equation, output greater than input. This was living, to see your eyes open and know I had brought you back.

In time you repaid the favour, gave me a life I never thought possible. It sounds stupid I know, I would have disdained the use such a nonsensical phrase beforehand but not now. Through every battle, every mission, alone together we ran that line between life and death. The perfect balancing act, warrior angels perched on gravestones. You gave me an understanding of why I was here. My tenuous link to this world became iron, no longer a little light but a ghost with a guardian.

I realised humanity was meant to go to the stars. And you were so close. You can do it again. We can do it together, more than just survival.

Those stars, calling out to us with their light through the night sky. We saw them as we took refugees to the city. We saw them as we fled the Hellmouth. I can see them now. They gave us hope. Belief in a future.

Our destiny.

Why am I thinking of these things now? No time for this. I've been damaged, I think. Yes. That last barrage of fire. I can't focus. Process. I can't.

Don't leave me alone again.

 _... . .ltmem4729384569956988569(876597). . . . . .signalfail..._

Another memory.

Many years, now. Long ago, even for us.

Ghosts don't sleep, of course. Or I would have dreamt about it, I think. Had nightmares about it.

The desert plain, past the shade of those cliffs, the boiling heat and dust that clung to us both. You had fought off dozens already. The sun beating down, a relentless fire in the sky. Your rifle was broken in half, smashed to pieces across the back of the last vandals neck. I saw you slide down to your knees in the sand, gasping for breath, the bloodied stump of your left arm hanging by your side. When you had picked up what was left of the limb and caved in that captains skull with it even the Fallen looked surprised. I had never seen anything like it. You were wild, fearless. Crazed.

How did you lose that arm?

Whats wrong with me?

I can't remember.

Something important. I know.

Yes.

We had been moving in the shadows of the cliffs with a dozen survivors, families, unarmed and afraid. Trying to stay out of sight. The Fallen knew we were close, they were already blocking comms. It was hopeless. With their air support it was only a matter of time until they spotted us. And when they did it was only seconds until we were under fire.

Yes.

I remember now...

 _... .cleaning..._

...I remember...

 _...Threat assessment. Class c1 ketch north west, closing from 6000 metres 200 metre elevation. Marking target and tracking. 30 ground troops north north west, closing from 500 metres, estimated time to optimal firing range 6 seconds. Marking targets and tracking. 2c8v18d2s standard formations. 5 miles to suitable cover, eta with survivors 2 hours. Escape unfeasible. Setting killzone markers, perimeter established. 3 seconds to enemy contact in kill zone. Assess defensive capabilities. Insufficient cover. Scout rifle 197 rounds. Shotgun 21 shells. Laucher 2 shells. Grenades charged and ready. Supplementary combat options charged and ready. 1 second to contact. Incoming fire. Contact. Target flag mark 2.3..._ The crack of your rifle, three quick shots and you drop back into cove _r...Target down. Tracking. Incoming fire from ketch. Stay in cover. Tell the people to get closer and have your bubble ready. Target flag 3.3, target flag 3.5..._ You are back up, shots hammering out _...Targets down, one kill one tagged. Good shooting guardian. Target flags, 1.0 through 1.4 and 5.1 through 5.5. Grenades, use them..._ The ketch is firing again, a piece of shrapnel tears at your shoulder as you loose the grenades but I don't think you even notice. Their thunder echoes back through the cliffs, drowning out the screaming of the children behind us _...Incoming fire, bubble now now now..._ You throw it up, the wall of light a blue fire around us. The civilians not already inside rush forward, one injured, you check the wound as enemy fire crashes against your light, blocking out the world. They are terrified but you are calm, resolute. You load your rifle, back to the enemy as you scan the survivors for any more injuries. Checking their bodies, avoiding their eyes. You know they can't make it, don't you? Running out of time here, only seconds till our shield falls. "Get ready to move," you tell them, "north against the cliff face. Stay in cover." The ketch is pounding at us with everything it has. You stare up at it, unflinching, the civilians in your shadow. My guardian _...if you're going to do something brilliant this would be a good time..._ "Move. _Now_." You swing the launcher down from your back and roll forward out of the bubble in a single movement, too fast for the ketch. The second rocket is away by the time the first strikes, left side, clean impact on the engine housing. A howl of tortured metal and the craft is spinning, out of control, spitting flames and wreckage. The blast has knocked us both backwards and the fallen are too quick, rushing in with shockblades ready. 2 vandals 2 dregs. The first vandal slams a blade into your thigh before you can recover, the dregs rushing past after the families. You see them and energy surges through you again, rising to your feet, an open palm into the vandals throat smashes it back against the wall. You hold it there and draw your shotgun as the other vandal closes. Its blades knock the barrel away as you fire, the other still struggling in your grasp, slashing at you with the three remaining blades. You spin the shotgun and strike the second across the jaw staggering it back, a split second and you crash your head into the pinned dreg, helmet casing splitting its skull apart down the centre. A hundred yards away the ketch comes down, tearing into the rock and coming apart with a deafening roar. You drop the vandals body and roll back, firing from the hip with the shotgun and wounding the other. In your other hand your rifle is out and you fall to your knees to steady yourself. Shotgun on the vandal. Rifle on the two dregs. Dust billows from the downed ketch and flows blinding around us. Firing. Firing. Vandal is down. The dust is clearing. One of the dregs too. The second is only wounded but you are back on your feet already. The blade is out of your leg and in your hand and then in the dregs back _... Tracking. Target flag 3.1. Grenades are up..._ You toss one back to buy us a few seconds _...Leave the launcher. You're wounded but its nothing. Re-establishing perimeter. Killzone flags reset to fallback position. We've lost two of the civilians..._ "I know. Give me targets, ghost." _...Target flags 1.1, 1.6, 2.5, 5.3, 5.5. In range...The rifle barrel glints in the sun, shots ringing out again and..._

 _... . ..._

We lost them all, didn't we? One at a time. Burned or cut down.

Until there was only two left. The boy and his mother. This memory like a wound. It has bled. It has festered and it has left a scar. I will always feel it.

One of the captains, two dregs and a vandal were left. The boy was a few feet behind us, his mother off to the right in cover, bleeding, eyes on her child. You dropped the last bubble you could, even for you the pain becoming unbearable. Too many broken bones, too many open wounds. Too much blood lost to the dry ground.

A volley from the captains shrapnel launcher struck the bubble a second later. The remaining fallen howled, spreading out. I saw the pop of readied grenades. We had been lucky too many times. No escape now. The boy was still screaming for his father but the man was long dead, picked apart like a fly by the dregs a mile back. I was damaged, cloaking disabled, struggling to stay afloat. I knew you had nothing left. Just a matter of time.

I saw the woman too late. She had ran from cover, desperate to reach her son, staggering across the open ground. In reality it was only a few seconds but when I play it back I run it a frame at a time, scanning every image for hours at a time. I don't know why. The dregs see her. She is twenty feet away. The boys eyes are closed and I am thankful for this small mercy in his pain. They throw their grenades, I see them looping forward. She is ten feet away when you spot her, realise what is happening. You are too slow. We were both too slow. When she is 5 feet away you reach out through the bubble for her, left arm exposed through the light. The grenades strike the ground, bouncing up against the shield. You grab her arm, look into her eyes.

The next moments are difficult to recall, the data poor or nonexistent. The detonation had thrown you back, arm gone. The bubble had dropped, enemy fire raining in. The boy was dead. I was hit again and tried to shelter behind you. It was all I could do.

You were on your knees, staring at the childs body as the captain moved in to finish us. Then you reached for the bloodied stump of your arm.

Get up guardian.

As broken as you were the others didn't stand a chance, not against that fury.

And then there was silence.

Time passed. Minutes, maybe hours. I could hear your breathing now, heavy and ragged.

It would have been over then. A terrible story. Defeat and death and failure. It should have been over. But then we both saw them.

A mile in the distance, more survivors, civilians, families. Trying to escape the fighting in the east. Two more Skiffs were closing on them, dots on the horizon but growing fast. There was nothing we could do. I was barely operational, if you died I couldn't resurrect you. You could barely stand. We couldn't save them. I had called the ship, it was safe enough to bring it in now. But you wouldn't go, you wanted to get to the civilians. It was crazy, hopeless. I tried to tell you but you just kept repeating it. "We have to get to them, ghost. We have to get to them." I transmatted us to the ship and locked in a course for the city. You were barely concious but you screamed, a sound like I never heard before. I told you, it was suicide to go back for them. We had no comms, no support. It was suicide. You passed out, hit the floor. We got back to the tower and I dropped us in the courtyard, desperate for help. When you regained conciousness you struggled to your feet and struck me so hard I flew back across the courtyard, past Tess' stunned face. Other guardians surged in and held you back until you collapsed again. You wouldn't let me anywhere near you. The next morning Zavala came to see you at our quarters. I waited outside. After that I could be in the room with you but you wouldn't look at me. Wouldn't speak.

And thats how it began. Two years of silence.

6 months had passed. A dozen missions. Still you wouldn't talk to me. You would hardly look at me. I spoke to Zavala, explained again what happened in the desert. He said I had done the right thing. That defeat could be hard to take and you would get over it with time. But that time passed and nothing changed.

So I spoke to Ikora. She thought for a moment then said Zavala was right, we couldn't afford to lose anymore guardians after what had happened on the moon. I had done the right thing. More time.

I was desperate. I would have to be to speak to Cayde. I didn't expect much more than a joke but he listened. Laughed at that part about your arm. When I told him how we fled though his eyes turned cold and he raised his hand to cut me off.

"You done what?" his voice sharp, "Zavalas reply, I understand. But I thought Ikora had more sense."

He was shaking his head, as much I think now in surprise as disappointment.

"Those hopeless times are why we need the guardians, ghost. A frame wouldn't go back for those people. A ghost clearly wouldn't. We may be resurrected but we are very much alive. A guardian has to go back for those people, even if it is just to die alongside them. Going back wasn't just the right thing, it was the only thing. You understand? Guardians can handle a defeat, ghost. But that wasn't defeat. It was surrender."

He stared at me, holding the silence. Holding me in his eyes.

"Where did you find your guardian ghost? The first time I mean. On one of the refugee paths to the city?"

"I...y, yes. How did you know? I never told y-"

He raised his hand again.

"You don't understand, ghost. You'll say you do, but you'll be lying."

That night I spoke to you in our room. It had been so long my voice sounded strange, alien in the space between us.

I told you what Cayde said, how I understood now.

Of course, I was lying.

You sat across from me, mute as always, staring at the door. I wasn't even sure you had heard me. Then you rose, walked out of the room. I followed. It was night, we went through the tower to the rear courtyard. There was no one to see us except that broken frame. You climbed over the edge and slid down to the foothills. Walked for hours into the mountains. We were out of sight of the tower. Were you going to strike me again? I didn't know. I was afraid but I had no choice, this was my only chance to get you back. Finally you stopped at the lip of another valley. You faced me, the sun cresting the horizon in the distance. You pulled a grenade, staring at me, snapped it live and stuck it to your chest.

"What are you doing!"

I pulled back, panicked. The grenade detonated, the sound echoing around the valley walls. I brought you back as fast as I could. It was crazy, there were Fallen in this area, we couldn't stay. You got to your feet and while I was babbling at you to get moving you flicked another grenade to life and stuck it to your chest again. I was in a panic, desperate, confused. It detonated. I brought you back and you done it again, the heat light and noise pushing me back, searing my shell. The ground was stained black, burned of life. Again I brought you back. Again the grenade.

"Stop! I understand, I do!" I lied.

Resurrection, grenade.

It hurt me every time as much as it hurt you and you knew it.

Resurrection, grenade. Resurrection, grenade.

Resurrection.

"Stop it. Please. Please stop."

You paused, grenade in hand, eyes on me.

You tossed it aside and stepped forward, shaking, voice breaking.

"Those people in the desert didn't get another chance ghost. Those children don't get to come back."

There were tears in your eyes. I had never seen you cry.

"We were their chance. I was. And we betrayed them. We left them to die."

I thought again about where I had found you, on the refugee trail. Hundreds had died there, thousands. Helpless. Alone.

"Never again."

After that night it was just a matter of time. A word here or there. A few months later it was as if it had never happened.

I had brought you back.

 _... . . . .signalfail..._

Ghosts, just memories of something lost.

I remember Twilight Gap.

Your helmet was cracked, I knew your ribs were broken.

A haze in the air, the fading smoke and echoes from our gun emplacements. The moments in the chaos where we stopped to breathe and saw birds in the sky. The fire from the spider tanks, so many, hundreds lined on the hills with the colours of the three Fallen houses. Thundering impacts, shattered stone flying from all sides. Blood and fire and bodies.

That hunter, the beautiful fool, had died beside us, his ghost broken at his feet. We saw the next wave of Fallen and knew it meant death. You never said a word. Just started loading shells into your shotgun. Your were breathing fast, hands shaking with adrenaline.

How many waves had we survived now? How many guardians had fallen. We were all that was left in this sector. One of the shells, slippery with blood, fell from your fingers and rolled away. You left it and kept loading.

We both heard the order come through, crackling on the comms. On an open channel, to everyone left defending the Gap. Zavalas voice. The last order a titan ever recieves.

"Stand your ground, guardians."

The falling sun cast our shadows long and cold behind us.

It was beautiful.

They were in range now and they opened up with everything they had, a cacophony of screams and gunfire. You stood over the hunters body, raised your eyes to meet them. There were so many targets, so many projectiles even I was struggling to track them all. You threw up the bubble at the last possible instant. You didn't think we would make it but I knew it wasn't over. You crushed the first dregs skull with your fist. They had charged in, overconfident, seeing you wounded and thinking us beaten. Slammed the next back from the bubble with your right foot, spun the shotgun up and dropped another. They were swarming around us, a sea of grasping arms and wild eyes. Stuck a grenade to another and pushed him back out into the crowd. Slammed your head back into another vandals jaw, a blinding explosion from the grenade and your shotgun was ringing out again. Another fell, then another. The captains were moving in now, shockblades glistening in the fading light. The bubble wouldn't last much longer.

And then we heard Shaxx.

 _... . . . ..._

All I will be is a memory of you left behind. Just another ghost, only smoke in the twilight.

I won't go back to the tower without you. I'll stay. I'll stay and die beside you if I have to. Because now I understand.

It took me so long to find you. And I've watched you every moment of my life since. Since my life really began. You are why I exist. Why I am here. And I can't leave you now.

I imagine the face of the speaker, if I went back alone.

"Where is your guardian, ghost?"

"I lost her."

 _... . . . . .centralprocessingcomprimised..._

Grab that shotgun and get up.

Get on your feet guardian.

Please.

Please get up.

 _... .hullintegrity29%. . . . . . ..._

I remember that boy, screaming for his father and there are no words for this.

This Darkness.

 _... .accessdenied."why dont you talk about it ghost, the darkness?"..."Becuse we can't."..._

Don't give up on me.

Don't give up on us.

Get on your feet and fight.

One last time. Let me bring you back.

 _... . 2%breachbreachbreach..._

The stars are calling us.

 _... ..._


End file.
